Member Blog Post
Dusk mists rise from the damp floor of the woods like disembodied spirits pouring forth from hundereds of unmarked graves, mingling amongst one another. The fading rays of the twilight sun fading into shadow. The palid face of the moon peers down on us like the watchful eye of the fates.
It begins as a twinge of pain here, a muscle spasm there, the change is nigh. In the throwes of an inhuman transformation back to the predators we were bred to be, feral hunger envelopes us. Ravenous instinct takes the place of the trappings of logic.
Just a bit of a short free verse poem I've been toying around with for a while. Feedback would be appreciated, just keep it civil.